


Haven't Got Time for Anything Else

by cecilyjones



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: A Shoulder to Cry On, F/M, Found Family, Life aboard the Ghost, That droid just ain't right, Traumatic Backstories, droid bartenders, the smuggling life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-25 10:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilyjones/pseuds/cecilyjones
Summary: Hera has a mission. A crusade. She certainly doesn't have time for distractions. Not at all. Absolutely no distractions.Kanan might have finally found a home. Hera might be the best thing that ever happened to him. He's terrified of screwing it up.Scenes from Hera and Kanan's life aboard the Ghost.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> “You said he just walked out? He didn’t say anything?”
> 
> She asked the cranky astromech droid rolling back and forth across the galley, blurping and wheezing about how no, Kanan hadn’t said anything and how was Chopper supposed to keep track of these things, it wasn’t like anyone ever told him anything—
> 
> Hera sank onto the bench. “I really thought he would stay.”

The _Ghost_ was empty. Hera had searched the whole thing, every cabin, the cockpit, the cargo hold—and Kanan was gone.

“You said he just walked out? He didn’t say anything?”

She asked the cranky astromech droid rolling back and forth across the galley, blurping and wheezing about how no, Kanan hadn’t said anything and how was Chopper supposed to keep track of these things, it wasn’t like anyone ever told him anything—

Hera sank onto the bench. “I really thought he would stay.”

Their argument reverberated. They’d missed a meeting and lost a cargo as a result. Kanan blamed her for being too cautious, she blamed him for blustering in and scaring off the contact. They’d sniped at each other about it for a full day, until the tension exploded.

“Kanan, what is _wrong_ with you?” She’d bitten out in a tone that reminded her far too much of her father, and she instantly regretted it.

He'd turned on her. “Why don’t you tell me, you’re the one who knows everything!” 

“Kanan—“

“No, never mind, I’m sorry, I just…need some air.” He’d stalked off, but instead of going outside to the landing bay to take a walk, he’d stormed to his cabin. 

She’d planned on giving him time to cool off, so she stepped out to get some dinner from the Sullustan takeout place a block away. She’d brought him a box of noodles as a peace offering. 

But he wasn’t here. And his cabin had been cleared out. His coat and bag, gone. He’d just…left. She didn’t know what she expected; she always thought he might do something like this. When they’d first met, he’d bragged about it, how as soon as he started getting attached to a place he moved on, because he didn’t need the bother of emotional entanglements. Of friendships. But he’d been on the _Ghost_ for more than a year now. She really thought he would stay. She wanted him to stay. 

Grabbing her cloak off its hook, she gave Chopper a determined nod. “I’m going after him. You hold the fort.” 

Chopper emitted an annoyed squawk, followed by a tiny whistle that meant, _good luck._

** 

Kanan made it halfway to the passenger terminal before his steps slowed. He told himself to keep going. Keep walking, never look back, that was who he was, wasn’t it? He’d obviously worn out his welcome with Hera, spent too long on the Ghost. He’d been feeling that for weeks, if he was honest. He was coming to depend on Hera. No—he’d been depending on her for awhile, now. And she treated him. . .like a partner. And didn’t that feel strange? That argument…it had been a stupid argument, the blown meeting was nobody’s fault. He knew as well as anyone things just didn’t work out sometimes. But he’d already been on edge, and he’d taken it out on her, and— 

He stopped. Gripped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and sighed. Hera didn’t need him. He ought to leave, save her from having to deal with his messed-up attitude. But his heart was telling him, _You’re being a nerfherder._

There happened to be a bar across the plaza, where travelers waited for their next flight or arriving passengers or whatever normal people did at spaceports. Kanan marched over to it. He needed a drink. He needed to think. The place was mostly empty, just a couple of beings sitting alone at different tables. Dim lighting hid how worn out the decor was. He didn’t care. He slid into a seat at the bar, in front of the droid bartender, a tall cylinder with red optical lenses and a dozen manipulator arms. One was wiping down the surface with a cloth, another was shaking some kind of drink in a jar, a third and fourth were slicing fruit. 

“What may I serve you?” It asked it a low monotone. 

“One of those,” Kanan said, pointing to a row of bottles and tossing down a credit. He didn’t drink much anymore. Especially not compared to his drunken brawling days, before he met Hera. He’d hardly noticed, his life entering this third phase. His life since Hera, his life before Hera, and his life. . .his first life. The one he tried not think about. 

“Can you tell me something?” He asked the droid. “Why is it guys like me seem to screw everything up? I had a great ship, with the best. . .the best captain in the galaxy. Why would I just walk away from that?” 

“Well sir, I’m—“ 

"I know what it is. I mean, deep down I know. I’m afraid. That’s it, isn’t it? Back when I. . .when I was a kid, I was told that fear leads to terrible decisions. When you’re afraid you get angry, and then. . . It’s a defense. So what am I afraid of?” He took a long drink. 

“I couldn’t say, sir—“ 

The alcohol was a jolt. It made him fuzzy, but it loosened that knot in his gut. “I’m afraid I don’t deserve it. I’m afraid…of losing it. Of losing her. Does that make any sense? Oh…wait. That’s what I’ve been doing all along, isn’t it? You can’t lose something you abandon. I’m doing it all over again. I’m an _idiot._ ” He set aside the bottle without finishing it. Liquid courage? Yeah, right. 

“Thanks,” he said to the droid, whose red lenses seemed to blink in confusion. “You’ve been a big help.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and went out, across the plaza and back to the _Ghost’s_ landing bay. 

*** 

Hera went to all the local freight companies, to see if Kanan had tried to sign on with one of them as crew. No one had seen him. Next, she checked the passenger terminal, in case he’d gotten passage on a transport. Nothing there, either. She’d wandered for more than an hour, did everything but start calling out his name down random streets. Nothing. Her heart ached. She didn’t even have a way to get a message to him. 

When she returned to the landing bay—there he was. Sitting on the ground, leaning back against one of the _Ghost’s_ landing struts, he was. . .smiling. He seemed…incongruously pleased. 

She was confused. 

“Hi,” she said, approaching cautiously. “You came back.” 

“Yeah,” he said with a long sigh that spoke volumes. “You were gone, and Chopper wouldn’t open the door for me. He says I don’t live here anymore. So I had to wait. I hope that’s all right.” 

“Oh, Chopper.” She’d have to deal with the droid later. “I went to look for you.” 

His brow furrowed. “You did? Huh.” Then he pointed. "You didn't check the bar." 

She smirked. "No, I didn't. You been drinking?" 

"Just the one. After not drinking for a year I guess I'm a lightweight now." He sounded wry. Like he’d figured something out. 

She took a deep breath to launch in on the speech she’d been practicing. She’d had all afternoon to figure out what she’d say when—if—she found him. “Kanan, I don’t know everything you’ve been through, and everything that’s going on with you. It’s not my business, and I don’t need to understand it. If you…don’t want to stay here anymore, if you’re not…happy, or satisfied, or whatever…I would never try to force you stay if you wanted to leave. But I wish…” She wished a lot of things. She was losing the thread of her thoughts. “I wish you would tell me first. And not just…go. But I want you stay. If you want to stay. Do. . .do you want to stay?” Please, she nearly added. 

“Hera. I’m _terrified_ of how much I want to stay here with you.” He chuckled a little. He wasn’t drunk. He might have had a drink, but not enough to make him goofy like this. He was unreadable. 

She settled on the ground next to him. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

His apparent amusement disappeared; his lips set in a frown. “I lost everything. _Everything._ Since then. . .well. You can’t lose everything if you don’t have anything, you know? So that’s what I've been doing. If a place started feeling like home, if there were people I liked? It was time to leave. Then I met you.” He’d been gazing off at nothing in particular. Memories, maybe. But now he met her gaze. “The _Ghost_ is the longest I’ve ever lived in the same place since…since I was a kid.” 

That was code, for him. When he was a kid, before the destruction of the Jedi and everything he’d been. She wished she knew more, but she was fairly sure his story would be more awful than she could imagine. 

He said, “I’m afraid of losing that. Of losing you. And I’m afraid of hurting you.” His knees were pulled up, his arms resting loosely on them. Just a guy sitting comfortably, contemplating the universe. “I’ve got something to lose, now. And I’m afraid.” 

She lay her arm across his and took hold of his hand. It took him just a moment before he gripped back, and he studied their clasped hands like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. They'd never been this physically close, outside of watching each other's backs in a fight. 

“I’m stronger with you here,” she said finally. “When you’re around, I’m not afraid of anything. Please don’t be afraid." 

His eyes might have watered, just for a second. In a very soft voice he said, “Thank you.” 

They sat quietly for a moment. She didn’t want to move, and risk jostling whatever realization had settled on him. He seemed…contented. Some of the worried lines in his face had smoothed out. He held on to her hand; he wasn’t going to let go. He wasn’t going to leave, and that…pleased her more than she expected. 

The suns were setting, and shadows were causing the temperature to drop. “I got a couple boxes of noodles waiting in the galley. You hungry?” 

“Sounds great.” He stood first, and offered his hand to help her up. All their arguments were forgotten. 

She tapped her comlink. “Chopper? I need you to open the cargo door, please.” 

A disgruntled droidish moan answered. Hera stared at the link. “What do you mean, no?” 

A long string of self-righteous, atonal whining. 

Kanan raised a brow. She steadied herself to not lose her temper. “Yes, I know there are suspicious characters wandering around, that’s why we’d like to get in the ship now.” 

A rude blurt answered her. 

“But that’s not a suspicious character, that’s Kanan! Well I mean, yes, he can be suspicious, but he’s still part of the crew.” 

Kanan frowned. “Hey—“ 

She put her hand on his lips to keep him from talking. “Chopper. Open the door or I’m going to crawl through the top hatch and make you ride outside the ship from now on!” 

Kanan removed her hand from his lips and muttered into the link. “That’s going easy on him.” He kept hold of her hand. She found she wasn’t inclined to pull it away. “I’m thinking there’s some disintegration in his future.” 

“Kanan!” 

“Partial disintegration?” 

“Now he’s never going to open the door!” 

Just then, the cargo bay door cracked and swung open with a hiss of hydraulics. Chopper was there at the top of the ramp, sliding innocently back and forth and burbling on about how one could never be too careful about these things. Chopper was by far the most demented droid she had ever met. 

She wouldn’t trade him for anything. 

“That droid just ain’t right,” Kanan said, deadpan. 

“Well,” Hera said. “That makes three of us.” 

Kanan blinked at her a moment, then laughed. 


	2. Defeated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But these people need help—“ She struggled, kicking, clawing at his arms around her middle.
> 
> He held on tight. “I know. I know they do. But it’s too late. Look.” He nodded up the next street, to the squadron of stormtroopers marching toward them, relentless.

The explosion meant they were too late.

They had come to Dantooine to meet with a buyer for some stolen Imperial computer components. One of those five-part deals that ended up being way more complicated than it needed to be, picking up one shipment, trading it for another two systems over, trading _that_ one for the weapons cache that was the actual objective, and the whole time trying to skim enough credits to keep the ship flying and food on the table. They hadn’t been on-world an hour when a “wanted” alert went out through the space port, and their buyer was suddenly the target of an Imperial hunt, on suspicion of treason. Smart thing would have been to leave the planet immediately. Hera had wanted to warn the buyer what was coming, maybe get him off world if he needed a ride.

Kanan had long ago learned not to argue with Hera about these calculations. So they took a speeder out to the village that was the site of the meeting—and the whole thing blew up, just as they came within sight of the settlement. The familiar, spine-freezing whine of a pair of TIE bombers soared overhead. Screams echoed. People fleeing, injured, their homes destroyed. Fires rising up.

Hera jumped off the speeder and started to run toward the chaos.. Kanan lunged after her and grabbed her around the middle. Basically tackled her, and they both slid into the dirt. 

“Get off me, I have to go help!” she shouted.

“It’s too late, we have to get out of here..”

“Our contact, we can’t just leave—“

“If our contact is in Imperial custody then he’s already telling them about the smugglers coming to make a deal. We have to go, now.”

“But these people need help—“ She struggled, kicking, clawing at his arms around her middle.

He held on tight. “I know. I know they do. But it’s too late. Look.” He nodded up the next street, to the squadron of stormtroopers marching toward them, relentless. 

She sagged in his arms. Defeated. Kanan hated being right about this. Putting his arm under her shoulders, he hauled her up until she found her feet. He jumped on the bike, and she climbed on behind him, blaster in hand, looking back to cover their escape. 

He drove as fast as he dared, taking a circuitous route to escape notice, leaving the noise and burning stench behind. Hera holstered the blaster, no longer needed. Then, she did something odd. She pressed her face to his shoulder, and her body shuddered.

She was crying. 

Her arm was wrapped around his middle to hang on. He put his hand on hers, squeezed. Tried to convey that she wasn’t alone, that he understood the helplessness. The anger.

She twined her fingers with his, and they rode like that all the way back to the _Ghost._

***

He drove the bike straight into the cargo hold, and Hera raced to the cockpit without a word. He secured the bike, closed up the hold, and by the time he got everything settled they were already airborne and racing for orbit. They monitored comms and traffic control. There were no alerts to stand down, no fighters roaring after them. They’d gotten out before the Imperials locked down the space port. Kanan breathed a sigh.

When he got to the cockpit, Hera had already launched the _Ghost_ into hyperspace. Just that easy. The blue-white tunnel of light reflected on her face, starkly revealing her puffy eyes and the dried tears streaking her cheeks. He wanted very badly to rub the marks away. To somehow make this better.

But that would require destroying the whole Empire. Wasn’t that what they were trying to do? Might as well try to scoop out the ocean with a spoon. 

She glanced back. "All secure?"

"All secure." 

She climbed out of the seat, moving slowly, rubbing a shoulder. He'd probably bruised her when he knocked her over. He ought to apologize for that. "If we’d stayed, we’d have been caught or killed, and then we wouldn’t be able to help anyone. You know that, right?”

She paused at the door and gave him a wan look that was probably meant to be comforting. "Yes. You made the right call." 

The obvious quip—can I get that in writing?—died on his tongue. She was despairing. “Hera...” he started gently.

“What’s the point?” she said roughly. “I’ve been doing this for years, and things are worse than ever. Why do I bother, why did I even think I could make a difference when we can’t even help one stupid village on one stinking Outer Rim backwater—“ The rant cut off with a gasped sob.

She leaned in, and a single step brought her to him, her forehead to his shoulder. Crying again, unrestrained, all her poise and control gone. He held her. It was all he could do. Just hold her, arms wrapped around her as she clung to him. He pressed his cheek against her head, to the fabric of her flight cap. He drew comfort from the touch, and maybe she would, too.

“We can’t do everything,” he said. “We can’t save everyone. We just…do what we can. What we’re able. It has to be enough.”

She took a deep breath. The trembling of tears stopped. “It’s so…frustrating. I want to do more.”

“I know.” He pulled away, just a bit. Now, he was able to wipe away some of those tears. Look in her eyes and make sure she was going to be okay. Straightening, she nodded. Pulling her self-control back. Like armor. Somehow his arms felt colder when she left them. 

She studied him, suddenly wincing. “Oof, I leaked all over your shoulder.” Hera never did like a mess, and there was indeed an impressive wet spot of tears and snot soaking his shirt. She brushed at it ineffectually.

“My shoulder is always yours when you need it. Both shoulders, even. And any other body part you want.” He froze. “Wait. That came out wrong.”

That came out _very_ wrong. He was blushing, and then embarrassed that he was blushing, he blushed harder. He covered his face and sighed. When he dared look at her again, he wasn’t sure he was going to get the smirk, the frown, the eye roll, or some brand-new expression of annoyance.

Turned out, she was smiling. A real, beautiful smile. She touched his chin and said, “I like you, Kanan Jarrus. Do me a favor and bring me a cup of tea while I plot our next course?”

She liked him. She liked him. She smiled at him. And he liked her. _A lot._

“Absolutely.”


End file.
